The Outlaw And The Monk
by picascribit
Summary: 5 years post-series: An old friend returns to Sherwood Forest with a heavy heart. Rook is there to welcome him home. Rook/Tod, side ship: Rowan/Etty/Beau. trans masc Beau, nonbinary Rowan, aro/ace Lionel, Sherwood Forest is a queertopia. Warning: discussion of violence/death. Edited Sep 2017. Podfic available on AO3.
1. Chapter 1

The trees of Sherwood Forest were in their first green leaf of spring. Rook relaxed beneath their sheltering boughs, after the morning's hunt. The hunt had yielded nothing but three rabbits, scrawny and lean as Rook himself after the long winter, but they were better than nothing. They would keep Rowan Hood's little outlaw band fed for one night, at least.

Rook stretched his limbs, enjoying the feel of space, and the hint of warmth in the air. He was glad that the weather had finally turned. The harsh winter had forced him out of his cave in the rocky tor, and into the crowded cottage that Rowan, Etty, and Beau shared. Rook had not been the only one. Lionel had wintered there as well, complaining constantly of the cold, and the cramped conditions. Around Midwinter, Rowan's father, Robin Hood, had fallen ill, and Rowan had insisted that space be made for him, so that heo could tend to him with heore healing magic. Then, just when Robin was on the mend, the child had come ...

The winter had been an ordeal for Rook, who enjoyed his space and solitude. He loved Rowan and the others, but he was glad to finally be able to retreat to his quiet cave once more.

Rook closed his eyes and breathed in, letting the peace and solitude of the forest flow through him. The rustle of leaves on the trees. The nearby foraging of some creature too small to be considered food. The hum of an early bee. The distant rush of the river. And then another sound. A human sound. Rook's eyes popped open. He listened intently, waiting for the breeze to carry the noise to his ears once more. There. It sounded like ... _whistling_. Someone was whistling in the forest.

Quiet as any greenwood creature, Rook rose to his feet and stepped behind a tree, peering out past its thick trunk, waiting.

A moment later, a figure appeared on the narrow path through the glade. The figure was tall, and walked with a slight limp. His brown habit marked him as a wandering friar, the cowl pulled forward to hide his face. He whistled cheerfully as he walked.

Rook frowned, puzzled. Most travelers through Sherwood Forest feared attracting the attention of outlaws, and made their journeys as swiftly and quietly as possible. This man seemed not to care who knew of his presence. Or perhaps he wanted to draw attention to himself. He might be acting as bait, to draw outlaws to him, in the hope of collecting a bounty. Rook's eyes narrowed, looking the tall figure over for weapons, but aside from a stout walking stick, he was unarmed. Scanning his surroundings, Rook searched for any hint of soldiers or sheriff's men who might be lying in wait for an unwary outlaw, but he could see no sign of movement in the bushes. The forest was still and quiet.

The monk paused, looking around. Rook froze. Had the man sensed his presence somehow? But no, it seemed that he was only getting his bearings. He changed direction, turning off the narrow path onto a deer track, and continued on his way.

Rook's frown deepened. If the man kept on in that direction, he would pass perilously close to the rowan hollow, and Rowan's cottage. The hollow and the cottage were protected by the _aelfe_ \- magical forest spirits who were Rowan's kinfolk - but it was not in Rook's nature to rely too much on supernatural beings of any kind. He turned his head and gave a sharp jackdaw call of warning, cupping his hands around his mouth to conceal the direction and source of the birdcall from the traveller. The signal meant a stranger near the band's home. If one of the band was nearby, they would hear it.

When Rook turned back, the stranger had stopped again, and was standing still, looking around. The monk lowered his hood, revealing a freckled face of about Rook's own age - certainly no older than twenty - and light brown tonsured hair. To Rook's surprise, the man cupped his own hands around his mouth, and attempted to imitate the jackdaw call.

Lowering his hands, the man called out, "Rook, is that you?"

Rook tensed, staring at the monk's face, trying to place him. There was certainly something familiar about him, but Rook had never met a friar apart from Tuck, of Robin Hood's band, and Tuck was more than twice this man's age and size.

"I bring word of Runkling!" called the monk with a smile.

Rook gasped. He _did_ know the man - or rather, he had known the lost and lonely boy who had been his friend some five years past, and whom Rook had last seen riding away from Sherwood Forest with Rook's pet piglet, Runkling, tucked safely inside his cloak.

The young outlaw stepped from behind the tree, showing himself. Catching sight of him, the monk's smile widened.

"Well met, Friend Rook."

"Well met, Tod Sheriffson."

The monk winced. "It's just 'Brother Tod' now."

Rook nodded. He could understand that well enough. Tod's father, the Sheriff of Nottingham, was a cruel man who bore no more love for his own son than he did for any of the outlaws who dwelt in Sherwood Forest.

Tod's smile returned as he looked Rook over from head to toe, taking in his wild black hair, sun-browned skin, sheepskin vest and leggings, and bare feet.

"You look well," he said at last. "How fare the others?"

His voice carried a note of concern. Tod knew as well as Rook did how chancy the life of an outlaw was. He could not dare to hope that everyone he had known on his last visit to the forest had made it through the years unscathed.

"Rowan's band are all well," Rook assured him. "Robin Hood's band has grown in numbers, and devils your father more with each passing year."

Tod shook his head, smile turning brittle. "I have no father any longer but God. I am pleased to know, though, that the man who sired me has not made the world a worse place by destroying those who truly love and value life."

"If he has failed, it wasn't for lack of trying," Rook said grimly, but let the unpleasant subject drop. "Rowan and the others will be pleased to see you. I'll take you to them, if you wish."

"Gladly," said Tod, brightening.

Rook retrieved his rabbits from behind the tree, and the two young men set off through the forest together.

"Tell me of the others," Tod said eagerly. "What has passed with you since I left?"

"Lionel is taller than ever," Rook told him, "and just as hard to keep fed. Rowan and Etty and Beau live together in a cottage near the rowan hollow. This winter past, they took in the orphaned child of a woodsman and his wife, dead of sickness."

"God rest their souls," said Tod, crossing himself and bowing his head briefly, as if in prayer.

Rook paused to wait for him. While Tod's head was lowered, the young outlaw looked him over. His friend had changed much over the last five years. He was a man now; handsome of face, broad of shoulders, tall and well-built - almost a head taller than Rook himself - and when he opened them again, his eyes were warm and brown.

Tod caught Rook's eye on him, and smiled. Rook returned the smile briefly before looking away. He was not ashamed of the way he sometimes looked at other men, and he knew that if he did not act as if he were doing anything untoward, the men he looked at were less likely to take exception.

"You mentioned Etty?" Tod prompted, as they continued on their way.

"I forgot that you've not met Princess Ettarde," said Rook. "She was away with her mother's kin the last time you were here."

Tod nodded. "I remember the others speaking of her. And my fa - and the sheriff, too," he amended, his expression darkening briefly.

"What of you?" asked Rook. "A man of God now, is it?" He could not hide a smile.

Tod laughed. "Are you surprised that the Lord has use for the likes of me?"

Rook shook his head, grinning. "No. It's only, when I thought of you, I never imagined you in a monk's habit."

Tod glanced sideways, catching Rook's eye with a warm smile. "I'm glad to hear that you thought of me."

"Well, I missed my pig," Rook mumbled, flustered. He felt heat rise to his cheeks, and hoped that Tod would not notice him blushing.

"I did promise you word of him, did I not?" Tod grinned. "Runkling is well. He's enormous, and the father of hundreds of healthy piglets, these five years past. He earns his keep very well indeed."

Rook let out a breath he had not known he was holding. "I feared he had ended up on some lord's supper table."

Tod halted in his tracks and turned to Rook, a hand on his shoulder. Rook looked up, startled, into brown eyes full of feeling.

"Never," the young monk swore. "I would not have allowed it. You gave him into my protection, Rook. I would never have betrayed your trust."

Rook lowered his eyes, humbled, the heat that had flushed his cheeks settling into a blooming warmth in his chest.

"I - thank you, Tod," he mumbled.


	2. Chapter 2

Rowan was glad of the three rabbits, and gladder still to see Tod. The young monk, too, seemed happy to see Rowan, but when the outlaw took his hands in greeting, he pulled away in confusion. Looking from Rowan's troubled expression to Tod's flustered face, Rook wondered whether Tod was the religious sort who thought that associating too closely with women was unseemly, or whether it had something to do with Rowan's pagan nature. Neither possibility endeared Tod's new-found holiness to Rook.

Rowan hid heore own apparent doubts, and gave Tod a tour of the cottage, a smallish stone and wattle construction, which the five of them had built three years past, surrounded by a garden that was just beginning to put up its first green shoots of spring, and a half-constructed (and so far henless) henhouse. Tod seemed delighted to see Beau and Lionel and the wolf-dog Tykell again, and to meet Etty and the solemn dark-haired toddler Rowan had named Celandine, in honour of heore mother, but whom all affectionately referred to as Smudge.

Everyone was thinner than usual after the long winter, but in good spirits, and did not begrudge a guest a place at their supper table, though Lionel did comment on how little food there was to go around.

" _Alors_! What are you complaining for, you _grand chou_?" Beau teased. "You have only to go to Robin Hood's band and sing one of your pretty songs, and you will have another supper."

Rook said little throughout the meal, instead watching Tod, gauging his reactions to the others. Did it bother him that Beau preferred masculine attire, and was called _he_ rather than _she_? Would it bother him to know that Rowan preferred to be called neither _he_ nor _she_ , instead going by the neutral _heo_ , sometimes dressing in the clothes of men, and sometimes that of women? Had Tod noticed the single bedstead in the corner, or realised that Rowan, Beau, and Etty lived here together as if married, each to the others?

Rowan caught Rook's eye over a roasted rabbit, and raised heore eyebrows at him. Rook merely shrugged. He was usually the quiet one in the band, so the others thought nothing odd about his silence.

"How did you come to take holy orders, Brother Tod, if it is not presumptuous to ask?" inquired Etty, ever the gracious hostess.

Tod smiled at her, but his eyes held a different expression, faraway and ... sad, Rook thought. "No, it's not presumptuous at all, Friend Etty. When I left Sherwood Forest the last time, I went to my mother's people in the South. My uncle and aunt took me in, and apprenticed me to a carpenter they knew, but I had no great skill at the trade. I tried my hand at a few other things, but found I had no gift for them, either."

"So you became a monk?" asked Lionel. His attention was divided between Tod's story and Smudge, who sat on his knee, looking up at him adoringly, while Lionel clumsily fed her with his left hand.

"Not right away," said Tod. "I became a soldier first. My fa - I was trained in the fighting arts when I was young. It was hoped that I might one day be a knight. When a wandering priest came to our town, calling able-bodied men to Crusade, I went, not knowing what else to do with my life. The cause seemed worthy, and the pursuit of it noble. Any man might distinguish himself, even one without a father or a title."

" _Mon Dieu_!" cried Beau. "How thrilling!"

Etty was awestruck. "You must have seen such wonders, traveling so great a distance."

"Did you learn any songs in the East?" Lionel asked eagerly. "Could you teach them to me?"

Smudge squawked, catching the others' excitement, and even Tykell gave a low _wuff_ from under the table. Only Rook and Rowan remained silent, studying the young monk. His expression and tone were of one merely reporting the facts, not seeking to thrill or impress his audience. He did not seem interested in drawing the story out for their entertainment.

"I saw and learned a great many things," Tod said evasively. "My travels to the Holy Land took many months. But in the end, I found I had no taste for killing. Not even those whom the Church proclaimed the enemies of God. I traded my sword for a monk's habit, and vowed to spend my life serving God in other ways."

Rowan nodded in approval, and the others looked as if they agreed.

"After a time, I found that I wanted to return home," Tod continued. "I took the habit of the wandering friars and set out, traveling with merchant caravans, for I did not wish to spend my journey hearing Crusading knights' and soldiers' tales of bloodshed. My journey homeward took longer than my journey to the East. I'm not ashamed to say that I was greatly moved when I saw the shores of England once more. I think I shall not leave again."

The small outlaw band gave a collective sigh at the conclusion of the young monk's tale.

Etty and Beau rose and began clearing the table. Lionel wiped Smudge's face and hands with a cloth, and took her away into a corner to play, singing to her in a low murmur.

"How long will you be staying in the greenwood, Brother Tod?" Rowan asked.

Tod smiled and shrugged. "I had thought perhaps to make my home here. Mayhap there are those living in Sherwood Forest who could use a little spiritual guidance."

"Mayhap," Rowan agreed with a smile. "My father's band has Friar Tuck, and he does not seem to mind living among outlaws. If you wish to remain with the Rowan Hollow band, then you are indeed welcome."

"Was it not Augustine who said that wisdom comes in many forms?" observed Beau. "And all the better if it comes with another set of hands for working."

Etty gave Beau a half-amused, half-exasperated look. "I'm not sure Augustine ever said any such thing."

Beau shrugged. "That does not make it any less true."

Rook was more skeptical whether the band needed the kind of guidance a servant of the Christian God might offer. Etty was a professed Christian, and Lionel nominally so, but Rowan followed a pagan path, paying spiritual homage only to the _aelfe_ , while Beau kept the beliefs of his own people, an outcast folk known as Wanderers. Rook himself had recognised the authority of no god or other supernatural being since the death of his father, seven years before. What being worth worshipping could have allowed such a thing to happen? In Rook's experience, the followers of the Christian God were no better or kinder than anyone else when it came to regard for those who lived outside the law, or who transgressed the narrow bounds of social custom, even if they harmed no one by doing so.

Rowan offered Tod a place by their fire for the night, but he declined.

"Your home seems more than full already. I would only be in the way. The weather is fair. I am content to make my bed under the stars."

Although Tod had been nothing but cordial throughout the meal, Rook wondered again whether his wish to distance himself had anything to do with an aversion to women, paganism, or the configuration of Rowan's household.

Rowan smiled. "If you mean that you'd rather have peace and quiet, you're right to look for it elsewhere. Perhaps Rook could offer you a place? As you may have noticed, he doesn't chatter on like the rest of us."

Tod met Rook's eyes with a warmth that made Rook doubt his doubts of the man. "If you have room, and don't mind a little company, I should be glad of a place by your fire, Friend Rook."

"You can come with me, if you like," Rook said gruffly.

"Rook, before you go, there was something I wanted to ask you about," said Rowan, giving him a meaningful look.

Rook frowned, but followed heom to the far corner of the cottage. He did not need to ask Rowan what was on heore mind.

"I'm worried about Tod," heo said immediately.

"Why? Do you think he mislikes you, or the household you keep?"

Rowan frowned. "I don't know about that. Whether he does or not, that's not what I mean. I mean that he's wounded."

Rook looked in surprise at the young monk, who sat in smiling conversation with Etty. Catching Rook's eye on him, Tod gave him a warm smile. He did not appear to be suffering any great pain or discomfort.

"I don't mean physically," said Rowan, seeing the doubt in Rook's eyes. "It's deeper than that. A wound of the spirit. I felt it when I took his hands. I think he sensed I could feel it, and that's why he pulled away. He holds his pain tightly, as if it were precious to him. As if he does not wish to be healed of it."

Rook glanced at Tod again, more covertly this time, as the young monk laughed at something Beau said.

"He seems well enough," grunted Rook.

Rowan shook heore head. "Remember the last time? He did not wish for us to see his pain, even when his leg was broken. I know what that feels like. That kind of pain is not easily hidden."

Rook remembered well the face of the boy, white with pain behind his freckles, his leg caught and broken in a man-trap set by his own father. He had been no more than fourteen years old, but he had not wept or cried out in pain. Rook had admired his bravery, even though at the time, he hated the sheriff's son.

"Some men take foolish pride in pretending to feel nothing," Rowan continued, "but I think it's more than that. I think perhaps he's just as wounded as you were, when first you joined our band."

Heore words hit Rook hard, momentarily overwhelming him with memories of his father's terrible death, and the year and more of heartsick anguish and rage that had followed. How Rook had tried to deny it by denying his own humanity, thinking of himself as a wild creature without human feelings. How could it be possible for Tod to sit there, talking and laughing with Etty and Beau, if his pain was even half of what Rook's had been? And yet, if Rowan said it, it must be true. Heore skill at all kinds of healing had only grown in the time Rook had known heom. Heo always knew unerringly where the pain was, and how to repair it, if it could be repaired.

"Can you help him?" he asked.

Rowan shook heore head again. "Not if he won't let me. Anyway, that kind of pain needs something more than a healer's touch. I could soothe him for a moment, but unless he's ready to talk about what happened, and start to let it go, there isn't much I could do for him. But you might be able to help him."

Rook stared at heom in surprise. "Me? What can I do? I'm no healer."

"You can listen," said Rowan. "See if he will speak to you about what troubles him. He knows that you're - what was the word Etty called you that time? - stoic. If you tell him there's no shame in speaking of his feelings, perhaps he'll listen. If he can weep for his sorrows, all the better. There is great healing power in tears, for that kind of hurt."

Rook doubted whether Rowan was right to place such faith in his ability to draw the monk out with words.

"I'll try," he said.

* * *

As Rook and Tod climbed the path up the rocky tor to the cave in the gathering darkness, Tod carried most of the conversation.

"It gladdened my heart to see Rowan and Beau and Lionel again, and to meet Etty. She's a very charming and learned young woman. It doesn't surprise me at all to know that she was born a princess. And how good of them to take in that poor orphan! I'm sure they will raise her well." He paused. "But there was something I did wonder about -"

"What?" said Rook, tensing.

"I beg you to pardon my confusion, Friend Rook," said Tod, brow furrowing, "but I think perhaps I misunderstood a jest that was shared amongst you the last time I was here. For, you see, I had thought that Beau was a girl. I see now that I was mistaken. I would beg his pardon, too, but I have no wish to embarrass him."

Rook frowned, searching for the right words to explain Beau to Tod, that he might understand.

"It's like Lionel," he said at last.

Tod looked puzzled, but did not interrupt.

"He's big and strong, and he's a nobleman's son," Rook explained, "but he was never meant to be a warrior, no matter what his father thought, or wanted. He was always going to be a minstrel."

Tod nodded. "And a fine one, too, I understand."

"Well, Beau was never meant to be a girl. It didn't matter what his family or anyone else thought. He knew he was a boy. So he ran away and came here, where he could be himself."

"I see," said Tod, looking thoughtful.

"Do you?" Rook asked pointedly, giving the monk a sidelong look.

Tod met his challenging tone calmly. "I think so."

They did not speak again until they reached the ledge that concealed the mouth of Rook's cave. It was a small space. Enough for two men to sleep, with room for a small fire ringed by stones between them. A pile of sheepskins served as Rook's bed. There was a ledge where Rook kept his few worldly possessions, a small stack of firewood, a few dried fish, and a bucket for hauling water.

Rook remembered Rowan's words, and wondered if he should say something, but he did not know how to begin a conversation that would end with Tod confessing his private pain, so he said nothing. Perhaps the right words would come to him later.

The monk opened his pack, unrolling a bedroll onto the hard ground, and laying out the few items he carried with him. Rook turned away as Tod shed his habit and climbed under the thin blanket. The air was warm enough that it did not seem worth bothering with a fire. Rook undressed and pulled one of the sheepskins over himself.

The two men lay in the darkness, listening to the rush of wind in the trees and the river far below them. Sleep was just beginning to steal over Rook when Tod's soft voice came to him through of the darkness.

"I have never said that I was sorry."

"For what?"

"For what my father did to your father. Leaving an innocent man to die in a man-trap while his young son watched was an unforgivable act of callousness and cruelty."

Rook stilled, fists clenching in the wool of the sheep skin, trying to push the images Tod's words conjured out of his mind. "You have nothing to be sorry for. No son is responsible for his father's actions."

"Nevertheless," said Tod, "you blamed me once. I would beg your forgiveness."

Rook had done more than blame Tod at the time; he had wished the boy dead, and had been prepared to do the deed himself - or so he had thought. He could hear the yearning in the young monk's voice. Behind it, for an instant, Rook heard his father's pleading. _Just take your knife and slide it here, across the vein, Son. Please! It will be quick, and so easy. I won't feel a thing..._

"There is nothing to forgive," said Rook gruffly, shaking off the memory. "The sheriff is a cruel man who delights in the suffering of those under his power. You have as much cause to know that as I do."

"Yes," said Tod quietly. "But nevertheless ..."

Rook remembered Rowan's words. How talk could be a kind of healing. Talk had helped Rook, when he had finally admitted to his own soul-deep anguish. It had been painful at first, but the kind of pain that was the first step toward healing. Perhaps forgiveness could provide another kind of healing, even when no apology was needed.

"If it gives you any peace, and if there was ever anything to forgive, you have my forgiveness," Rook said.

"Thank you," Tod sighed. "That means a great deal to me."

Rook listened to the soft click of wooden rosary beads in the darkness, and the sound of the young monk's murmured prayers. But even after Tod's breathing settled into sleep, Rook lay awake, remembering.


	3. Chapter 3

By morning, Rook had managed to lay his father's ghost back in its grave. With resolve, he turned his mind to the task of drawing out whatever ghosts lurked in Tod's own past. But as one day followed another, Rook had no success. Words had never been his strong suit, and speaking of personal matters did not come easily to him. He began to hope that instead, Tod would begin to relax and open up to him as the two of them spent more time together, saving Rook the awkwardness of blundering clumsily into a delicate conversation.

In the meantime, there was no lack of work to keep their hands from idleness. The Rowan Hollow band's food and medicinal stores needed replenishing, and the damage wrought by the winter's snow and ice needed repair. In the evenings, Rook and Tod took supper at Rowan's cottage, or with Robin Hood's band.

Rook tried to teach Tod how to hunt, setting snares for rabbits and other small creatures, bending a bow for larger game, using a knife to gut and skin their prey, and tickling trout in the still, shallow pools along the banks of the river. Tod showed an odd reluctance at all of these tasks, except for fishing. The sight of more than a little blood made him turn pale and look away. Rook was puzzled. He could not recall Tod being squeamish of blood when they were younger, and he knew the man was no coward.

"Are you all right?" he asked once, up to his elbows in the carcass of a deer.

"Well enough," mumbled Tod, not looking at him or the gutted and half-skinned animal. "I just - I can't do this. I'm sorry. Is there something else I can do?"

Instead of pushing, Rook brought Tod to help Rowan collect herbs and plants for food and medicine. Some plants needed to be hung to dry, while others required careful transplanting into the cottage garden. Rowan wore a jerkin and trews for gardening, heore hair tucked up under a wide-brimmed hat.

"Anything yet?" Rowan asked in a low voice while they worked, glancing at Tod to make sure they were not overheard.

Rook shook his head. "Nothing, apart from hating the sight of blood. Do you think maybe he killed someone and regretted it, and that's why he became a monk?"

Rowan frowned, considering. "I don't think so. I suppose that could be part of it. But as deep as this goes, I think something must have happened to him, or to someone close to him. You'll keep trying?"

Rook nodded. He did not like disappointing Rowan, even if he still had no idea how to proceed.

They stuck to bloodless tasks after that, for which Tod seemed relieved. For two days, they worked to finish the henhouse next to the cottage, constructing cozy boxes for the future hens to nest in, and making sure the walls and roof were sturdy enough to keep out foxes and other predators.

Rook found himself enjoying the work, and Tod's company, in spite of the weather turning grey and drizzly. Tod, for his part, seemed to delight in trying to make Rook smile and laugh, both of which had been almost unheard of during Tod's last stay in the forest. The young monk hid his own feelings with such ease that Rook wondered whether Rowan had been mistaken after all. He even found himself teasing Tod, in his turn.

"I thought you said you had no skill at carpentry."

Tod grinned, pushing his rain-soaked fringe back from his forehead. "I don't. But I hope I can manage well enough to satisfy a chicken. They're less likely to complain about my shoddy work, at least."

Rook laughed. "I don't know what chickens you've been around. All the ones I've known complained almost as much as Lionel does. You just can't understand what they're saying."

"Are you two talking about me?" asked Lionel, ducking out the cottage door, harp hugged to his chest to keep the strings dry. Smudge trailed after him, seeming not to mind the weather at all.

"Only in passing, Friend Lionel," Tod smiled. "Have you come to help us, or only to inspect my sorry work?"

"Neither," admitted Lionel. "I thought perhaps while you worked, you might remember a song or two that you learned in the East. Or you could tell me of the glories of Crusading, so that I might compose a ballad about it," he added hopefully.

A shadow passed over Tod's face. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Friend Lionel, but I found nothing glorious in Crusading. It's a bloody business, where men slaughter each other with no true understanding of one another's nature. Often, they make no distinction between warriors and civilians. Men who call themselves Christians treat the women and children of those they call the enemies of God with no greater chivalry than the warriors of the Muslim faith treat our own women and children."

Rook pricked up his ears, hoping that Tod might continue, trying to think of a question to ask that might lead the monk to expound further upon his feelings of bitterness against a cause the rest of the Christian world seemed to fervently believe in, but Tod only turned back to his work, appearing to consider the matter closed.

Lionel looked disappointed. "But surely you must have learned some songs along the way that you could teach me?"

"All the songs I know are hymns and psalms," said Tod, with uncharacteristic sharpness.

"Leave him be, Lionel," said Rowan from the doorway of the cottage. Heore gaze fixed on Tod, as if heo could divine the secrets of his soul if heo only stared hard enough. "He has work to do, and you're supposed to be watching Smudge."

Lionel looked around guiltily, and gave a cry of dismay when his eyes lit on the toddler, black dirt smeared down the front of her tunic, happily pulling up the young plants in the corner of Rowan's garden. He hurried over and scooped the little girl up with one arm, patting the plants clumsily back into place with the other hand, while Smudge screeched in annoyance at the interruption of her "gardening".

Tod seemed unaware of the little drama playing out nearby. He stared, unseeing, at the hen box in his hands, knuckles white from gripping the rough wood. Rook caught Rowan's eye, silently beseeching heom for help. Rowan only inclined heore head and raised heore eyebrows in an expression that said as eloquently as words, _go on, talk to him_.

Hesitantly, Rook laid a hand on Tod's arm. "Hey."

The monk shook himself and blinked, then turned toward Rook with a smile on his face once more. "I'm sorry. I was distracted for a moment. Where were we?"

He turned back to his work, fitting together the boards of the nesting boxes, while Rook looked on helplessly, with no more idea what to say to him than before.

* * *

The henhouse was finished. Rook worried that Lionel might try to pester Tod again if they spent another day working near the cottage, so the following day, Rook took him to the river instead. Tod seemed to have recovered his spirits, or at least brought his secret sorrows back under his control.

Rook showed Tod where the spring thaw had damaged the fish pools he had made, the breaking ice and heavy current of the river scattering the stones of the low dams. The two of them set about gathering stones, wading calf-deep in the chilly water, and arranging them in such a way to create wide, deep pools where fish could rest, and frogs might lay their eggs.

The weather was fine once more, and the sun warmed them as they worked. Rook threw off his sheepskin vest. The sunlight felt good on his bare shoulders. He could feel the approach of summer in his bones, as if he, too, were waking up after a long winter. Tod also shrugged out of his habit, letting it hang from the belt rope about his waist.

It occurred to Rook that it had been several days since he had spent any time alone. He had barely noticed. Usually, Rook preferred his solitude, but Tod did not complain like Lionel, or chatter incessantly like Beau. He was more like Rowan and Etty, thinking his own thoughts most of the time, and speaking only when he felt moved to do so. Rook found his company agreeable.

More than once, Rook caught himself watching the monk out of the corner of his eye. Freckles sprinkled the pale skin of his chest and back. The muscles of his strong arms and broad shoulders rippled as he lifted the heavy stones and settled them into place with ease.

To distract himself, Rook began singing as he worked. Many of the songs he knew were bawdy folk tunes. A few were Lionel's compositions, detailing the adventures of Robin Hood and his band. Rook had a good voice - nothing like Lionel's pure, sweet tenor, but still pleasant and strong - and he was good at remembering the words to even the longer ballads. Tod smiled in amusement when he began to sing, but soon joined in on the choruses as he picked them up. After a few songs, Tod started to share some of the hymns and psalms he knew, in English, French, and Latin.

They ran out of good-sized stones within easy reach before Rook and Tod ran out of songs. Heedless of the chill, Rook stripped off the rest of his clothes and waded into the deeper water, ducking under to fetch stones from the bottom, and transferring them to their growing dam.

Tod had stopped singing. The monk's head was bent, eyes fixed as if in intense concentration on the bottom of the shallow river beyond the dam. He carefully collected stones that were too small to be of much use.

Rook cocked his head, frowning and stepping closer to the other man. "We need bigger stones than that. Come into the pool and help me."

Tod glanced at Rook, standing naked, up to his thighs in the cold water of the fish pool, then quickly looked away, cheeks reddening. "I'll go downstream a little way, and see if I can find some better ones." He turned and splashed away, the skirts of his habit raised carefully above his knees to keep them from being soaked.

Rook watched him go, puzzled. Was he mistaken, or had Tod been shy of looking on his nakedness? Most men would think nothing of going bare before one another. They all had the same parts, after all. Or - he thought briefly of Beau - most of them did. Perhaps monks cared more about modesty than the average man. But averting one's eyes was one thing; blushing and running away was something else.

A suspicion took root in Rook's mind concerning what that _something_ might be. Was it possible that Tod was the sort of man who liked looking at other men? That was an interesting thought.

Rook had looked at several men and boys over the years. There had been one man, the previous year, who had particularly captured Rook's attention - a young outlaw of Robin Hood's band. Rook had contrived to go hunting and fishing with him on several occasions, and his warm feelings had made him behave awkwardly. But when those feelings were not returned, they had faded in time. The only boy Rook had ever kissed was Beau, once, when they were younger, just to see what it was like. There had been no girls. Apart from Etty, there were few women in the forest.

But now there was Tod, and Rook had to admit that he liked what he saw when he looked at the monk. If Tod was also looking, was it possible that he liked what he saw, too?

Rook had a hard time imagining that. He was small and skinny, with knobbly bones that stuck out all over. He also had the darkest skin of anyone he knew, apart from Beau, and a man in Robin Hood's band whose parents had been African merchants. Beau had once speculated that Rook's mother might have been of Wanderer extraction, like Beau himself. Rook supposed it might be true, but there was no one he could ask. He certainly had not inherited his black hair and dark eyes from his father. All Rook knew was that brown skin was not commonly considered desirable.

Whether his face was at all handsome, Rook did not know. The only mirror he had ever known was the surface of still water, and he had not spent much time looking at himself. He tried, now, to discern his reflection in the surface of the fish pond, but the water rippled, distorting his image too much to give him any idea of his looks. All things considered, Rook doubted he was attractive enough to tempt someone who had taken holy orders. And yet ...

It occurred to Rook that there might be more to Tod's embarrassment than a wish to keep his inclinations secret. Some godly men, Rook knew, were disgusted by the thought of intimacy between two men. Rook wondered if such self-loathing was part of the turmoil Rowan had sensed in Tod. Perhaps he had sworn, as part of his vows, to live chaste, in spite of such feelings. Or it might be that Tod had not yet fully realised or accepted his own inclinations.

Whatever Tod felt or thought or had sworn, Rook reminded himself that Tod was hurting. Even if Rook liked what he saw - even if Tod had been looking - Rook knew it would be wrong to do anything about it while his friend was vulnerable. He would have to wait until Tod began to let go of his secret pain, and then see where they stood.

Resolved, Rook dove back under the chilly water, hoping that it would cool the growing warmth in his chest as easily as it cooled his sun-warmed skin.


	4. Chapter 4

Robin Hood found Rook and Tod at the river, and invited them to join his outlaw band for supper. The outlaws had had good hunting the day before, and there was roast pork and venison in plenty.

The Rowan Hollow band were all present. Beau's arm and cloak were draped around Etty. Rowan sat at heore father's right hand, with Tykell at heore feet. Smudge played merrily with Little John and Will Scathelock, freeing Lionel's hands for his harp.

Now that Rook had his clothes back on, Tod did not seem to mind sitting beside him at the great cookfire. Rook watched Tod as they ate, searching for any sign of preference or attraction, but Tod was equally friendly to all who spoke with him, treating Etty with the same courtesy and respect he gave Friar Tuck.

When Lionel sang, Tod listened with enjoyment, but afterward, he said in a low voice, "Lionel may sing like an angel, but you sing like a lark, at home in the forest. I could not say which I like better."

Rook's face grew hot, and he could think of nothing to say in return. He hoped the flickering firelight hid his blush. Tod might be friendly, and might even enjoy looking at men, but that did not mean he would be pleased to know of Rook's growing feelings. If he found out, he might decide to leave Rook's cave, or even leave the forest altogether, never to return. The thought gave Rook a momentary feeling of panic.

He glanced at Tod, engaged in pleasant conversation with Etty. His eyes fell on the monk's hand, resting on the forest floor between them. The fair skin was lightly sprinkled with freckles, visible even in the firelight. Rook wished he could think of something to say that would give him an excuse to touch that hand, to draw Tod's attention back to himself.

Something else lay on the ground between them. Rook's eyes narrowed. It looked like a piece of parchment. Curious, Rook picked it up, examining it in the firelight.

The parchment was worn from much handling, and rolled into a small cylinder. Unrolling the little scroll, Rook found several lines of neat writing, partially obscured by a brownish stain. Rook frowned, peering more closely at the words. He had never learned to read or write, though Etty had offered to teach him alongside Rowan and Beau, over the long winter. However, he had seen enough to know what English, French, and Latin writing looked like. This was different.

A shadow fell over his shoulder, and Rook looked up to see Robin, also peering at the scroll. "That looks like the writing of the Arabs. Where did you find it?"

Tod glanced over from his conversation with Etty, and saw the parchment in Rook's hand. Eyes wide with sudden terror, he snatched it away from Rook, hastily stuffing it into the pocket of his habit.

"What is it?" asked Rook.

"Some sort of charm perhaps?" suggested Robin.

"It-it's nothing," Tod stammered, but Rook could see the flush of his cheeks even in the firelight, his fists balled up in the pockets of his robes. He looked frightened and embarrassed, as if he had been caught in some shameful act.

Tod's reaction had attracted curious looks from Etty, Beau, Rowan, and half a dozen other outlaws sitting nearby.

"Is something amiss, Brother Tod?" Etty asked.

Tod stood up. "No. I - no." For a moment he looked as if he might say something more. Then he closed his mouth and stumbled away into the forest, tripping over several outlaws on the way.

Robin looked to the other members of the Rowan Hollow band for an explanation. Beau, Etty, and Lionel merely shrugged. Rowan ignored heore father and gave Rook a meaningful look that said, _follow him_. Wordless, Rook obeyed.

It took several moments for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the forest, after hours spent looking into the fire. The moon was near full, and ghostly light found its way between the leaves to dapple the trees and the forest floor. Rook stood still, listening, but all he could hear was the rush of wind in the leaves. With all his tracking skills, if Tod did not want to be found in the dark of night, there was little chance of Rook finding him, unless he happened to trip over him.

"Tod!" he called softly, and again, louder, "Tod!"

He knew no more than before what he would say to the monk, if he found him, but Rook knew he had at least discovered another clue. Whatever Tod was not talking about, that bit of parchment was part of it.

Rook waited a few moments longer, standing in a patch of moonlight, so that Tod would know he was there, and that he could come and speak to him privately, if he wished. When Tod did not reappear, Rook returned to the outlaws' fire. He sat away from the others this time, keeping his eyes on the trees, just in case.

Rowan caught his eye and raised heore eyebrows. Rook only shook his head.

When the outlaws began to leave the circle of the fire to find their beds, Rook set out alone up the path to his cave. He sensed Tod before he saw him, and turned to find him standing by the path in the moonlight, waiting. Neither of them said a word as they picked their way up the rocky tor.

Rook wanted to say something as they bedded down for the night, but all the words he could think of sounded trite in his mind. _You know you can talk to me._ Surely Tod did know that, so what was the point of saying it? _It's all right._ Clearly it was not. _You can trust me._ Either Tod did or he did not, and Rook saying it would not make either possibility any more likely.

At last, Rook reached across the space between them and gripped Tod's shoulder. "I'm here."

Tod returned the gesture, his grip on Rook's shoulder almost painful. "I know," he said.

* * *

Rook woke in the night. The light of a small oil lamp filled the cave. Perhaps that was what had wakened him. Tod sat with his head bowed over the worn and stained parchment. His eyes were closed, but his lips moved, as if he were reading the words, or reciting some prayer. His face wore an expression that was equal parts anguish and rapture. He did not notice that Rook had awakened. Rook turned over and closed his eyes once more.

* * *

The next time Rook awoke, the cave was lit only by the pale glow of the setting moon. It was immediately clear what had awakened him this time. Tod was thrashing around beneath his blanket, calling out desperately in a foreign tongue.

" _Zaahir!_ " he called again and again. " _Zaahir habibi!_ "

Rook caught him by a flailing wrist. "Tod! Wake up!"

Tod sat bolt upright, eyes wide and staring. He was trembling visibly.

"Tod," Rook said again, softer this time, and tugged at his wrist, trying to draw his attention away from the dream that had disturbed his sleep.

Slowly, Tod turned his head. He blinked. Finally, he seemed to see Rook. His shoulders slumped, and the breath went out of him in a sigh.

"Are you well?" Rook asked quietly.

Tod pulled his wrist from Rook's grasp and turned away. "It's nothing. Only a dream."

Rook was silent for a moment, watching him. Then he said, "I dream sometimes. My father, lying in the jaws of a man-trap, dying by inches, begging me to end his suffering, and not a thing I can do to save him. Such dreams are not 'nothing'."

"Every man struggles with his own demons." Tod looked up, meeting Rook's eyes. "I pray for him, you know. Your father. Every day, these five years past. I pray that his soul may know peace. And I pray for you, too," he added softly.

The breath caught in Rook's throat. Tod had thought of him, and of his father, every day since he had left the forest. He felt a powerful urge to touch the other man, to let him know what that knowledge meant to him.

Instead, he asked, "What was that tongue you spoke? You kept saying ' _Zaahir_ '. What does it mean?"

Tod tensed, and Rook thought for a moment that he would deny again that it meant anything. But apparently ' _Zaahir_ ' meant something to Tod that he could not deny, even by silence. He bowed his head, closing his eyes, as if commending his soul to God.

"I told you that I went on Crusade, because I didn't know what else to do with my life," he began in a soft voice. "I thought I would find an answer in the East. At first, I believed all the talk of glory and righteousness. And then one night, when we were not far outside Constantinople, I dreamed of you.

"Of me?" said Rook in surprise.

Tod gave him a wan smile. "In my dream, I was caught in the man-trap, and you were there, holding Runkling and threatening to kill me. But at the same time, I knew you were my friend. When I awoke, I knew what the dream meant."

"You did?" asked Rook, hushed.

"It meant," said Tod slowly, considering each word, "that just because you've been told someone is your enemy, that doesn't mean they are, or that they should be. When you and I met, we were enemies for reasons that had nothing to do with you and me, but once we understood one another, we parted as friends."

Rook nodded, remembering.

"I thought about it often, as I traveled on toward the Holy Land. How I had been told that the followers of the Muslim God were my enemies, and God's as well. How I had trusted in that idea without question, and without ever having met one of them. So I resolved to meet my 'enemy', and get to know him, to find out if we were truly enemies after all. When I arrived in Jerusalem, I sought out the company of Muslims. I began to learn their language. Other Crusaders thought I was mad, and shunned me for it, calling me a traitor and a coward, but I would rather that than kill a man unjustly."

"What did you learn of them?" asked Rook.

Tod shrugged. "That they are people, like any other. They have their vices and their virtues, their fears and their desires. I learned that their God and the Christian God began as one and the same, just as with the Jews, but different beliefs divided us over time. I could never bring myself to kill a man over an idea or a difference of opinion, no matter how strong my belief in my own rightness was."

Tod fell silent again, head bowed. Rook knew that his story was not finished, because nothing had yet explained the anguished cries of Tod's dreaming. He waited. At last, Tod took a deep breath, sharp and painful, as if steeling himself. When he continued, his voice was barely more than a whisper.

"There was one man. Zaahir. He - became my particular friend." Tod's eyes were fixed on the setting moon, a soft smile on his lips, but sorrow shone from his eyes. "He was two or three years older than me. A scholar, not a warrior. Always laughing about something. So full of fun and sly humour and _life_." Tod pressed his lips together, anguish washing over his face. "He was killed by a Frankish knight. Cut down in the street before my eyes, by a man who knew _nothing_ -" His voice cracked, and he squeezed his eyes shut, as if the memory were too much to bear.

Rook felt helpless in the face of his friend's suffering. If only he were like Rowan, able to relieve pain with a touch. If only Rowan were here now, heo would know what to do.

"He died in my arms." Tod forced the words out, as if each one hurt him. His whole body shook with the effort to contain his pain. "Someone who knew him saw, and ran to fetch his parents. They came. They wept and tore their clothes. He was their firstborn son. His father gave me a blessing - and then they bore him away. He was gone -" A sound like the whimper of a wounded animal escaped Tod's throat, but he quickly swallowed it. He seemed momentarily unable to speak.

Rook had never seen someone so heartsick with grief. _What can I do?_ he wondered desperately.

Like the answer to a prayer, Rowan's words came back to him. _If you tell him there's no shame in speaking of his feelings, perhaps he'll listen. If he can weep for his sorrows, all the better. There is great healing power in tears, for that kind of hurt._

Rook's own touch might hold no healing properties, but he supposed it was better than nothing. Hesitantly, he rested his hands on Tod's shaking shoulders.

"Tod -"

"I'm sorry," Tod gasped. "I've never spoken of him before."

"There's nothing to be sorry for," Rook told him. "It's right that you should mourn your friend, and speak his name. It hurts more when you keep it inside."

"Yes," said Tod. "Yes, of course it's right. Zaahir. Oh, Zaahir -!"

His voice broke. Slowly, he crumpled forward. Rook caught him in his arms, holding him tightly as a wild sob tore from his throat. Tod's own arms folded around Rook, clinging to him in desperation as his grief broke through its floodgates, pouring out of him in a great torrent of weeping.

Hot tears spilled over Rook's bare shoulder and chest. He could feel the warmth of Tod's body through the rough nightshirt the monk wore. Squeezing his eyes shut, Rook prepared to hold on for as long as Tod needed to be held.

"It's all right," he murmured. "You'll be all right."

Tod did not seem to hear him. He clung to Rook, rocking back and forth, moaning broken words into his shoulder between sobs. " _Zaahir - Zaahir habibi - aghfir li ..._ "

At last, Tod's trembling subsided, and his eyes ran out of tears to weep. He held Rook a moment longer, whispering Zaahir's name again like a prayer, and then he let go, sitting up and wiping his face on his sleeve.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

Rook brushed off the apology, sitting back on his pile of sheep skins. He felt hot and damp and exhausted, as if he had just completed a full day's work.

When Tod resumed his story, he seemed calmer, though his soft voice was hoarse from weeping.

"After that, I went to the nearest church, and I prostrated myself before the altar. My clothes were soaked in h-his blood." Tod closed his eyes and swallowed, gathering his strength. "I begged God for a miracle - my life in exchange for his. He did not grant it. The abbott found me lying there the next morning. He gave me Absolution, took me into the monastery, and gave me water to wash with, and a change of clothing. That evening, I said my vows."

Rook gave a start of surprise. "That quickly?"

Tod nodded. "I forswore the Crusade. It was a pursuit of personal glory and the lust for blood, not of God. No just God would desire such senseless bloodshed and wanton destruction of His most precious creation. I vowed never to make war or take a life for any reason, save the protection of the innocent. I wanted nothing more than a life of peace and contemplation."

"And did you find it?" Rook asked.

"No." Tod bowed his head. "No amount of prayer and meditation could lift the weight of sorrow from my heart. That was why I decided to return here. Rarely have I known such happiness and peace as I found in those few months I spent in the greenwood as a boy. I thought perhaps if I came back here - It seemed it might be a good place to heal a broken spirit, as it once was to heal a broken leg."

"It's a good place for that," agreed Rook.

Tod nodded. "Thank you, Rook."

Rook frowned, puzzled. "But I haven't done anything."

"You were here. You listened."

"Anyone could've done that," Rook objected.

Tod shook his head. "I wouldn't have been so open with just anyone."

When at last they lay back down in their beds, Rook listened to Tod's breathing ease into a more peaceful sleep. He thought he understood now. Tod had called the man Zaahir his "particular friend", but Rook suspected that Tod had not told the whole truth. Rook did not need to ask what _habibi_ meant. He was almost certain he already knew.


	5. Chapter 5

Rook woke before Tod the following morning. The intimacy of their embrace, and Tod's tears, the night before had given Rook dreams of lying in his friend's arms, Tod's lips brushing the back of his neck, whispering soft, sweet words to him.

As Rook looked at the monk's sleeping face, wondering what he had dreamed of, a wave of tenderness overcame him. He longed to wake Tod with a touch, to see if he would smile when he saw Rook there beside him. Perhaps now that he had spoken of the pain in his heart, Tod would begin to heal and live again, and see Rook as Rook saw him.

Brushing away the temptation, Rook turned to rummage in the back of the cave for forest fruits and nuts with which to break their fast. When he turned back, Tod was sitting up, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

He gave Rook a shy smile. "Good morning."

"Good morning," said Rook, trying not to let his tender feelings show on his face. "Are you well?"

Tod considered for a moment, then nodded. "Well enough. Better." He touched Rook's arm lightly. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

Rook tried to ignore the tingling feeling Tod's touch left on his skin. "I'm glad that I could be of help."

Shyness over the night's intimacy descended upon them, and they did not speak to one another much beyond trivialities for the rest of the morning. Rook was somewhat relieved that he needed to hunt today, since it was an activity Tod still wanted no part of. He needed time to himself, to let his feelings settle.

The day was bright and glorious, and as they parted ways at the foot of the slope, Rook watched Tod go, a wide basket over his arm, that Etty had woven for him, to collect edible and medicinal plants.

 _Hunting,_ Rook thought fiercely, trying to focus his mind on his task. _You'll never get anything done if you're thinking of him all the time._

The game he took that day was sparse. Two rabbits and a squirrel. Fishing was easier, but Rook tired of eating fish too often. Deer required luck and skill, and if they were large enough, someone to help carry the carcass home.

As he checked his snares, Rook's mind kept returning to Tod. To the warm, solid feel of him as he wept in Rook's arms the night before. To the pleasant feeling left over from Rook's dreaming. To the shy smile and light touch Tod had given him that morning.

Rook was almost certain Tod and Zaahir had been lovers. The brokenness of Tod's heart revealed what his carefully chosen words sought to conceal. If Tod had loved one man, surely he could love another. But whether he might find Rook at all appealing was uncertain.

What would Tod do if Rook tried to kiss him? The thought of kissing Tod warmed Rook and made his heart beat faster. But in his imaginings, Tod was happy to be kissed by him. There was only one way to find out whether Tod actually wanted Rook's affection.

Past midday, tired of being alone with thoughts that chased one another around in circles, Rook gathered the fruits of his hunt and set off through the forest to find Tod. He knew a few of the places Rowan usually went to find healing plants, and he only needed to check three of them before he found the monk, on hands and knees beside his basket, face and hands smudged with black dirt, and the juices of plants.

Tod smiled and sat back on his heels when he saw him. Rook could not help grinning in return.

"It looks as if you had better hunting that I did," he said, nodding at Tod's brimming basket.

Tod wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of a hand, leaving another streak of black. "It's the season of green, growing things. Our stores should be well-supplied by winter."

"I hope it will be better than last winter," said Rook. "The cottage was crowded, with all of us staying there, and none of us could sleep, with the rumbling of all those hungry bellies."

Tod grinned. "I'm sure we'll manage to keep warm and fed somehow."

Rook flushed, remembering his dream again. That was one way of staying warm during the long winter nights. The only nights he had truly slept warm in the cottage had been the ones when Tykell chose to curl up beside him, finding no room in the crowded bed.

"Shall I help you gather plants?" Rook asked.

Tod shook his head. "No, I doubt the basket will hold much more. We should take them back to the cottage. Some need transplanting while they're still fresh."

As Tod stood and stretched his arms and back, Rook could not help admiring him; long limbed, broad shouldered, handsome of face. Rook wondered whether Zaahir had been tall or handsome, and whether Tod cared about such things. Would Rook feel the same way about Tod if he were small, skinny, and ordinary-looking? There was no way of knowing.

They set off toward the cottage, Tod talking lightly of the less common plants he had found, Rook keeping his silence, answering only in monosyllables.

As they rounded the bend into the cottage clearing, Tod halted so abruptly that some of the plants spilled out of his basket. "Oh!"

A little way up the path, Rowan and Etty jumped apart. Etty's eyes were wide, her hand pressed to her mouth, as if to hide the kiss Tod had seen them sharing. Rowan seemed calm and unperturbed, but heore eyes fixed on Tod's startled face expectantly. Rook held his breath.

Etty moved first. Flustered, she bent to retrieve the spilled greenery at Tod's feet, then took the basket from his arm. "I - I'll just put this inside," she said, hurrying away, cheeks flushed.

Tod's eyes followed Etty through the cottage door and out of sight. Rook watched him, waiting.

"We live free, here in the greenwood," said Rowan, gently but firmly. "Our only law is the law of nature, and of the love we bear for one another. Will you condemn us for it, friar?"

Tod cleared his throat. "I - no. I don't condemn you. It's only - I hadn't realised that you and Princess Ettarde were -"

"Me and Etty and Beau," Rowan corrected evenly.

Tod's eyes widened. "That's - I see. Um."

"It's fine, is what it is," said Rook sharply. "They're happy, and they're not hurting anyone. We don't judge people here for who they love."

Tod's eyes turned to fix on Rook. Rook could see the question there, but he could not tell whether it was _are you?_ or _do you know?_ Rook raised his chin and met Tod's gaze fearlessly.

Rowan looked back and forth between the two of them, the corner of heore mouth turning up as if heo found something amusing. Heo stepped forward and took Tod's hands in heores, searching his face. This time, he did not pull away. At last, Rowan smiled, as if satisfied by what heo found.

"I hope that you'll choose to remain among us, Brother Tod," Rowan said kindly. "There's room for you in our band, if you wish it."

Tod's ears flushed red, but he seemed pleased. "Thank you. I have been happy here. And - as for love, I do not believe that God ever finds it displeasing, whatever form it takes. Didn't David say of Jonathan, 'Your love to me was more wonderful than the love of women'? And wasn't David one of God's chosen men? So, too, the bond between Ruth and Naomi. All love flows from Him who made us. He wouldn't condemn us for it."

It was Rook's turn to be surprised. He looked Tod over thoughtfully.

"I'm glad to hear it," said Rowan, finally letting go of his hands. "I wouldn't wish for there to be ill feeling between us."

Tod hesitated, then said shyly, "If you wish it, I'd be pleased to say a blessing for your union."

Rowan beamed. "A blessing is no great matter to me, though I thank you for the kind thought. In my view, we're already blessed. As for Beau, I don't know. But perhaps it would please Etty. I'll ask her."

Tod nodded. "Please tell her that I'm sorry if I've caused her any distress."

"Of course," said Rowan, glancing back at the cottage. "She wouldn't wish you to think ill of her. She's grown very fond of you, Brother Tod. I think it's good for her to have a learned friend to talk with. No doubt she grows weary of being surrounded by uneducated bumpkins all the time." Heo grinned.

Tod returned the smile. "The learning that comes from books is only one kind. All that I've learned thus far is how ignorant I am, and how much others have to teach me."

Rowan turned to Rook. "I'm glad you came by. There's something I wanted to ask you. It's Beltane tonight, and the weather is fine. We thought perhaps to have a bonfire on top of the tor, and sleep under the stars, if you don't mind the company."

"The tor doesn't belong to me," said Rook with a shrug. "You may do as you please."

"Nevertheless, we didn't wish to disturb you with our comings and goings on the path. We do hope that the two of you will join us."

"Gladly," said Tod, and Rook nodded in agreement.

"That's settled, then," Rowan smiled. "We'll see you there at sunset."

They bade each other farewell, but as they turned away, Rowan caught Rook's eye. Heo grinned, glancing from him to Tod and back again, and winked, mouthing, _good luck!_

Rook blushed, and glanced at Tod, who seemed to have missed the exchange. Rook had never spoken to Rowan or any of the others about his own preferences - it had not seemed important - but it was clear Rowan had guessed something was up.

"Two women and a man, living together as if married," Tod said in wonder, as they began collecting firewood for the evening's festivities.

"Well, a woman, a man, and Rowan," said Rook, feeling a perverse need to test the limits of Tod's tolerance.

Tod looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that Rowan isn't exactly a woman or a man, but rather something in between. Or maybe neither." He eyed Tod. "Does that shock you?"

Tod gave him a quizzical look. "You're testing me," he said at last, amused.

Rook shrugged. "It's the truth, so why not say it? If you're going to stay here, you'll have to get used to it. Rowan doesn't like being called _he_ or _she_. We use _heo_ and _heom_ instead."

Tod nodded thoughtfully. "All right. _Heo_ and _heom_. And no, since you ask, it doesn't shock or trouble me. God has made a world full of infinite wonders, including people, each of them different from the others. If some of them are both man and woman - or neither - why should that come as a surprise? God made the angels, too, who have no gender at all. If there was any person whom I should be unsurprised to learn had something in common with the angels, it would be Rowan."

Rook was unconvinced. "Many men are disgusted by the idea of those who defy the expectations of their sex."

"I'm not one of those men," Tod said mildly. "Some people may have narrow ideas about what God wants of us, but that doesn't mean that God's ideas are narrow. We live as best we can, in our own understanding, and trust that God will judge our hearts justly."

"If you say so," said Rook.

"I do," said Tod. "And what do you say?"

"What do I say of what?"

"When you first learned the way of things with Rowan and Beau, or of the bond between them and Etty, did it trouble you?"

Rook shrugged, bending to pick up a stick of wood. "Not really. People make their own way in the greenwood. When they find something that works for them, they ask no leave of anyone. They're my friends, and they're happy. We have to look out for one another, if we want to survive. That's all that matters."

"And if they were all three of them men?" Tod asked.

Rook shook his head. "If they were men, it would make no difference to me. Look at Robin Hood's band."

"Robin Hood's band? What of them?" asked Tod, surprised.

"A score or more of men, who live together without the companionship of women," Rook pointed out. "Do you think that none of them ever find such companionship with each other?"

"I suppose I never thought about it," admitted Tod.

"It happens," said Rook. "And no one gives them any trouble about it. Robin forbids it. He says they've all broken men's laws, and if they don't condemn one another for that, then they shouldn't condemn each other for other sorts of law-breaking that harm no one."

Tod nodded. "Robin Hood is a good man. Just and fair and wise. You're right that many men are disgusted by the idea of two men committing carnal acts together. I'm glad to hear that Robin isn't one of them, and that you aren't either."

Rook straightened up, and found Tod watching him, a bundle of sticks clasped in his arms. The question that Rook had seen earlier was back in his eyes. Rook decided he was tired of playing games.

"Ask me what you want to ask," he said abruptly.

"It's not any of my business," said Tod, disconcerted. "I'm not your priest or your confessor. You shouldn't feel that you have to tell me anything you would rather keep private."

"I don't fear to tell a friend anything," said Rook quietly. "Especially not a friend who has shared the secrets of his own heart with me."

Tod looked embarrassed, but nodded, searching Rook's face. "Then I ask you, as a friend, do you think of other men in that way?"

"Yes, I do," said Rook, meeting his gaze steadily.


	6. Chapter 6

Rook was not certain what he had expected. Perhaps for Tod to confess, then and there, that he, too, enjoyed the companionship of men. But Tod had only thanked Rook for trusting in his friendship, and gone back to collecting wood for the bonfire. Rook did not know what more to say, so he let the conversation drop. The two of them gathered firewood in silence, each lost in his own thoughts.

They met the others atop the tor, just as the sun was beginning to set. The forest spread out in a sea of green and shadow below them, as far as the horizon. Rook tried to show Smudge how to set up the sticks to light the bonfire, but the child seemed more interested in pulling them apart and giving them to Tykell than in learning the art of fire building. At last, Lionel scooped the toddler up, along with one of the sticks, and they went to play a game of fetch with the wolf-dog, some distance away.

While Rook was striking flint and steel, he saw Etty timidly approach Tod, to ask about the blessing he had spoken of. Tod's face lit up, and he hurried off to fetch his prayerbook from the cave. While he was gone, Rowan sat down beside Rook.

"He seems better," heo said. "Did he speak to you about what was troubling him?"

Rook nodded. "Last night."

"I'm glad to hear it," said Rowan. Heo grinned, heore voice taking on a teasing tone. "And how are things between the two of you?"

Rook flushed, focusing on the fire with all his might. "Well enough."

"I think you two might be good for one another."

"It doesn't matter what you or I think, if he doesn't think it, too," Rook muttered.

Rowan laid a hand on Rook's hunched shoulder. "Have you asked him what he thinks?"

"No," said Rook. "I can't ask him that if he won't even say whether he likes men or not, let alone me."

"Do _you_ think he likes men?" Rowan asked, brows raised.

"Yes. Probably."

"And _I_ think he likes you. Trust in yourself a little, Rook. You have a good heart. He's just afraid."

Rook looked up in surprise. "Afraid? Of me?"

Rowan shrugged. "I don't know. You'll have to find out."

Tod returned then, cutting short their conversation.

As the last rays of the Beltane sun vanished over the horizon, Rook stood beside the bonfire, Smudge on his shoulders, watching Tod's face as he read out the marriage blessing from his prayerbook, over the joined hands of Rowan, Beau, and Etty, while Lionel softly played upon his harp. Rowan looked pleased, Beau amused, and Etty radiant. And Tod - Tod looked utterly joyful to be part of the event. Rook could not help smiling.

After the blessing, as the stars began to come out, the little outlaw band laid out their blankets and cloaks around the bonfire. Rook moved his a little farther away from the others, and waited to see what Tod would do.

Tod shook out his own blanket and settled it so that it overlapped a little with Rook's sheepskin cloak. They sat quietly, side by side, as darkness fell, watching the others settle in for the night. Tod's eyes were still fixed on the little family group, their cloaks wrapped around one another.

"You did well by them," Rook murmured.

"I've never performed a wedding before," Tod admitted.

Rook grinned. "I expect this one will be memorable."

"Yes," Tod agreed with a low chuckle. "I wonder if there has ever been another like it, in the history of marriage."

"Perhaps there never will be again," said Rook.

Tod sighed contentedly. "It does my heart good to know that there is such love in the world. That they can go about their lives with no sense of fear or shame."

"They have nothing to be ashamed of," Rook pointed out.

"No," said Tod. "They don't. I'm glad for them."

A child's sleepy murmur came from the bundle of cloaks, and a small shape detached itself, toddling over to curl up beside Lionel.

Rook lay back, an arm crooked behind his head, and looked up into the starry expanse of the night sky.

"There's the Great Bear," said Tod, pointing up. "And there, below it, the Lesser Bear."

Rook frowned. "Where?"

"There," said Tod, pointing again.

"I don't see a bear."

Tod moved closer, so that their heads rested side by side, their shoulders touching. He raised his arm between them and pointed again, tracing the shape between the stars in the night sky.

"Oh," said Rook, when he finally saw it.

Tod began to sketch out other shapes, and to tell their stories. Perseus and Andromeda. Castor and Pollux, the twins. Leo, the lion. The great serpent.

After a time, he fell silent.

Rook thought perhaps Tod had fallen asleep, until he said softly, "The last time I looked at the stars like this, Zaahir was with me."

Rook held his breath, waiting.

"It was a warm night. Warmer than this one. It's almost always warm in the East. He came to the room where I was staying, and woke me. He took me to a mosque - that's what his people call their temples - and we climbed a minaret, which is a kind of spire, and sat looking at the stars. He told me their names and stories in his own tongue."

Tod fell silent again. It seemed to Rook that he wanted to say more, but was having difficulty finding the words.

"Did you never wonder why my father hated me so?" Tod asked at last.

The change of subject startled Rook. He shrugged, his shoulder pressing against Tod's. "The sheriff is a cruel man. He hates everyone who cannot improve his position in the world."

"True," said Tod. "But most men would consider having a son an improvement over not having one."

"Why, then?"

Tod hesitated, then said, "On account of a boy I knew in the town. The son of an innkeeper. My father caught us playing a - a game together. A game of kisses."

"Oh," said Rook, with no real sense of surprise.

"He beat me," Tod said matter-of-factly. "I don't know what became of the other boy. As soon as I could get away, I took a horse from the stables, and fled. That was when I met you and Rowan and the others, the first time."

Rook found Tod's hand, lying between them, and squeezed it. Tod's fingers turned over in his grip, squeezing back. He did not let go.

"The sheriff is a brute. You did nothing to deserve such treatment," said Rook. "No one cares if you're - _different,_ in the forest."

"Thank you," said Tod softly. "I don't mind being different. Not truly."

"And - Zaahir?" Rook prompted.

Tod let out his breath in a sigh. "Yes," he confessed softly. "I loved him."

Rook turned onto his belly and leaned up on an elbow, so that he could see Tod's face. "Tell me of him."

Tod bit his lip. "I've never spoken of it to anyone. What passed between him and me. Even when I wanted to shout it from the rooftops, I felt I must treat it like a secret shame. But I was never ashamed of loving him."

"Did he love you?"

Tod's eyes turned back toward the stars. "That night on the minaret - that was the first time he kissed me, and called me ' _habibi_ ' - his beloved." He spoke quietly, letting the truth he had guarded so closely in his heart find its way out into the world. "We - forgot about the stars, and about everything else, except for each other. It was only when the sky began to grow light in the east that we remembered we must go, before someone came to call the morning prayers. He walked me back to the room where I was staying, but I couldn't bear for him to go. I kissed him again, and begged him to stay. And he did."

Tod blinked away a dreamy expression, seeming to remember that Rook was there. "Is it a sin, do you think? For two men to lie together?"

"No," said Rook. "You loved him."

"With all my heart."

Tod sat up, letting go of Rook's hand, and fished in the pockets of his habit. Rook curled his fingers into a fist, trying to hide his disappointment at the loss of contact.

"This is all I have left of him," said Tod, cradling something in his palm.

Rook recognised the small scroll of parchment he had seen once before by firelight. "What is it?"

Tod unrolled the scroll. It was too dark to make out the words written there, even if Rook had been able to read them.

"It's a _ghazal_ \- a love song in the Arabic tongue. He wrote it for me."

Tod began to sing, his voice soft and rough. The melody was mournful, the words foreign, each one filled with sorrow, reverence, and love. Tod sang to the stars, his face illuminated by their faint light. Unshed tears glistened in his eyes.

"What does it mean?" Rook asked, when the song was done.

Tod bowed his head. "' _My love comes to me on a moonlit night, but the moon seems to shine only on him. My heart fills with joy to behold his face, and his eyes delight to look upon me. How I long for the touch of his hand on mine. I am filled with sadness when he goes from me. On my bed, I dream of him through the night._ '"

"It's beautiful," said Rook truthfully.

"Thank you for letting me speak of him," said Tod. "It's been hard, being alone."

Tentatively, Rook laid a hand on Tod's shoulder. "You're not alone."

"Am I not?" Tod asked dully.

"You - you don't have to be."

Tod stilled. "What do you mean?"

Rook bit his lip. "I mean that there are people here who - care for you." Tentatively, he took Tod's hand in his once more.

Tod looked down at their hands, and then up, into Rook's eyes. "Do you care for me, Rook?"

"Yes."

When Tod said nothing, Rook raised his other hand to touch his face. Tod closed his eyes and pressed his cheek into Rook's palm, accepting the caress.

Rook's heart pounded. In that moment, he wanted to kiss Tod more than he had ever wanted anything. He leaned in, and Tod met him halfway. Their lips found one another. Tod sighed softly, his mouth moving against Rook's, surrendering to the kiss. His hand curved around the back of Rook's neck, pulling him closer. A sense of elation swept over Rook.

It lasted for only a moment, and then Tod's hand gripped his shoulder, pushing him away.

"No," he gasped.

Rook felt dizzy. "What -?"

"I - I can't," said Tod. "I'm sorry."

"Why not?" Rook asked plaintively.

Tod shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I shouldn't have let it happen."

"But you _did_ let it happen," Rook pointed out, trying to keep his voice down, to avoid disturbing his sleeping friends. "You _wanted_ it to happen."

Tod pressed his lips together and looked away, hugging his knees to his chest. "It was a mistake. Let's just - go to sleep. Tomorrow, it will seem like nothing more than a dream."

Rook lay down on his cloak, staring up at the stars without seeing them. He did not understand. All he knew was that, for an instant, he had touched bliss, only to have it roughly yanked away from him. What had he done wrong?

 _He doesn't want you,_ whispered a treacherous voice in the back of his mind. _He wants Zaahir - his poet - his scholar - his dead love - not some sorry excuse for a replacement. You were nothing more than a moment's comfort._

Rook turned his head. Tod lay curled up in his cloak, perhaps sleeping, perhaps only pretending. He was close enough to touch, but he might as well have been on the other side of a great chasm, for all the good it did Rook. His hand rested on the blanket near his face, the little scroll of parchment just visible between his fingers.

Rook turned away and curled up on his side, squeezing his eyes shut. All the warmth of the night had fled, and the only companions Rook had left were his feelings of humiliation, rejection, and worthlessness.


	7. Chapter 7

When Rook woke the next morning, he could not immediately recall why he felt so utterly miserable. Then he remembered. Tod. He had kissed Tod. And for an instant, Tod had kissed him. They had shared a brief, sweet moment - and then Tod pushed him away, calling it a mistake.

Rook wanted desperately to say something to Tod, to mend things between them. Nothing came to mind. How could he apologise, when he did not understand what he had done wrong? But it did not matter whether he knew what to say or not. When Rook sat up, the space beside him where Tod had lain the night before was empty. Rook looked around the top of the tor. His friends were beginning to wake, and gather up their belongings. Tod was nowhere to be seen.

Rook rolled up his cloak, and hurried down the path to his cave. Perhaps Tod had returned there to sleep, wanting some space in which to think things over. But Tod was not there, either, nor were any of his belongings. The place his bedroll had occupied beside Rook's fire during the past weeks was empty.

Rook, too, felt empty as he stared at the bare earthen floor of the cave. Somehow, without understanding it, he had ruined everything. Blinded by his desire to kiss his friend, Rook had missed, or misunderstood, something important. Now Tod was gone, perhaps for good, and it was all Rook's fault.

Gravel crunched on the path as the rest of the Rowan Hollow band descended, arms full of bundled blankets and cloaks. Rowan and Etty ducked their heads into the cave.

"Where is Brother Tod?" Etty asked. "I wanted to thank him again for his beautiful service last night."

"I don't know," said Rook. "Gone."

"When?" Rowan asked, frowning.

Rook shrugged. "Sometime in the night."

"Oh!" cried Etty, dismayed. "I hope he didn't stumble from the path in the dark."

"He made it this far." Rook waved a hand at the empty space. "He knows the path down from here well enough."

"What happened?" asked Rowan, eyeing Rook shrewdly.

Rook looked away. "I kissed him. I guess he didn't want me to, after all."

"Oh, Rook!" said Etty sympathetically. "I'm so sorry."

"Perhaps he just needs some time to think," Rowan suggested.

"He took all his things with him," Rook pointed out. "I don't think he means to come back."

"Etty, go and catch up with the others," said Rowan. "Tell them to look out for Tod, and if they see him, to bring back word. I'll be along presently."

Etty hurried away, and Rowan sat down on the bundle of cloaks heo had been carrying. "Tell me."

Rook sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair, and told Rowan in a few words about Tod and Zaahir, and what had happened the night before.

Rowan frowned, nodding thoughtfully.

"What did I do wrong?" Rook asked.

"I don't think you did anything wrong, Rook," Rowan assured him. "But I think I understand now."

"Well, I don't."

"He's still hurting, and he's afraid of being hurt again."

"Maybe," said Rook doubtfully. "Or maybe he just doesn't want that sort of attention from me."

Rowan stood, gathering up heore bundle. "Come along to the cottage. I won't have you sitting here, feeling sorry for yourself all day. I doubt he's gone far, and if anyone sees him, we'll hear about it sooner there."

"No," said Rook gruffly. "I'm going fishing."

Rowan's brow creased with concern. "All right. But come by the cottage later, won't you?"

Rook promised that he would, since it was easier than arguing, and headed quickly down the path, leaving Rowan to make heore slower way behind.

When he reached the river, Rook sat down on the bank with a sigh. He liked fishing. It was relaxing. When the weather was as pleasant as it was today, he could lie on his belly on the rocky ledge for hours, mind empty of all thoughts, barely noticing the passage of time, one arm drifting in the cool water of the fish pool, as he waited for a fish to swim close to his beckoning fingers.

Today, though, his mind would not clear. It was too full of Tod, and of Rook's own self-pity. He tried filling it up with other things - peasants' work songs, and the ballads Lionel made - but one of the melodies he found himself humming turned out to be the _ghazal_ that Tod had sung for him the night before. Remembering the sad, wistful look on Tod's face as he sang, Rook squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fist in the water, startling away a curious fish.

 _It wasn't you he wanted,_ the voice in the back of his mind whispered again. _It wasn't you he held, the night he wept in your arms. That was only a sweet lie you told yourself. Zaahir is the one he wants to hold and kiss. It's only because he can't that he let you be near him._

Rook wondered where Tod was now. Likely, he had left the forest at first light, heading who knew where, as long as it was far away from Rook.

He tried to fish for a while longer, but the trout in the pool seemed to sense his agitation, and stayed clear of him. Finally, Rook gave up. He rolled onto his back with a sigh, staring up at the blue sky that peeked between the branches of the sheltering trees.

Tod was gone. Rook resigned himself to that fact. He only wished he had had the chance to apologise for whatever offence he had caused. He could not bear the thought of Tod thinking ill of him forever, feeling that Rook had betrayed their friendship. Rook cursed his wayward feelings. If only he had been the sort of man who liked women, Tod would still be here, and would still be his friend, and they would both be better for it.

Rook realised that what he felt was loneliness. Before Tod had come, Rook had enjoyed solitary activities like fishing and hunting, or just being in the forest, alone with his thoughts and the peaceful stillness. He had liked having his own space in his cave to retreat to. All those things were good, but Tod's companionship had been sweeter still. Now Tod was gone, taking that sweetness with him, and all the rest of Rook's joy in life as well.

He tried to imagine what it would feel like to sleep alone in his cave that night, without an evening's conversation, or the soft click of Tod's rosary beads as he said his prayers before sleeping. The thought of that silence and emptiness was so terrible that Rook was on his feet at once, fleeing through the forest, unable to bear another moment alone with his own thoughts.

Lionel, Etty, and Beau were working in the garden, while Smudge played happily with a pile of smooth river stones in a corner, when Rook arrived at the cottage, out of breath. Etty stood up, dusting off her hands and knees, and peered at him with concern from under the broad brim of her hat.

"Are you well, Rook?"

He ignored the question. "Where's Rowan?"

"Gone to ask Robin and his band to look out for Tod."

Rook looked away. "They don't have to do that. If he wants to go, that's his choice."

"Why would he want to go?" asked Lionel. "He seemed happy enough last night."

"No reason," said Rook, too quickly. "He just did."

Etty frowned. "Rook, we're your friends. You can talk to us. Come help me tie up these plants."

"You're not looking for him," Rook pointed out as he knelt beside her and began to tie trailing pea vines up off the ground with bits of twine. "You think he was right to go."

"No," said Etty. "I think it was foolish of you to kiss him without making sure first that it was what he wanted. But if Rowan thinks he hasn't gone far, then neither do I."

Rook shook his head glumly. "I should've known he wouldn't want me."

Beau laughed. "Why would you be thinking that?"

"Because I'm not -" Rook scowled. "I'm just - _Rook_."

Etty put down her twine and stared at him seriously. "You think you're not good enough for him?"

"I'm not," said Rook. "I can't read or write. I don't know the names and history of the stars. I'm not a scholar or a poet -"

"And you think that's what he wants?" Etty asked.

Rook looked down at his dirt-stained hands. "I think that's who he wishes he still had."

Etty's expression softened. "He lost someone?"

Rook nodded.

Etty smoothed her skirts thoughtfully. "That's sad. But that's no reason why he wouldn't want you."

"Isn't it?"

"You have a head like a turnip, Rook," snorted Beau, shaking his own head.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rook bristled.

"It means you do not see what is right in front of you."

"What am I supposed to see?"

Beau put an arm around Etty, pulling her close. "You would agree that my sweet Etty loves me, no?"

Rook nodded.

"But is it not also true that she loves our dear Rowan?" Beau continued. "Rowan and I, we are not very much the same, and yet our princess loves neither of us less for it."

"Well, yes," scowled Rook. "But that's different."

"It's not," said Etty. "When you love someone, you love their differences. You love the unique person that they are, and all they have to offer."

"I'm an unlettered outlaw who lives in a cave," Rook pointed out. "What do I have to offer anyone?"

"You know every plant in the forest, where they grow, and what their uses are," said Etty. "You know how to hunt and fish. You can make things with your hands. You can survive a winter in the open. You use your gifts to help others. You're thoughtful and quick-witted. You're a fearless and loyal friend. You have a strong sense of justice, and a kind heart."

Rook blushed. "You flatter me."

"I speak only the truth," said Etty, smiling at him fondly.

"Also," grinned Beau, "you have big, pretty eyes like a cow, and a nice bum. Brother Tod thinks so, too. I saw him looking one night, when you bent to pick up Smudge. Does the Good Book not say ' _where a man's eyes go, there also his hands wish to be_ '?"

"Beau! It most certainly does not!" said Etty, feigning shock, and smacking him lightly on the arm, as Rook's flush deepened.

"His is not so nice as yours, my sweet," Beau assured her, kissing her on the nose.

"Are you three quite finished talking of romance?" grumbled Lionel. "Some of us are trying to get some work done, so that we can survive another winter."

"Just because you have no care for such things doesn't mean the rest of us must keep silent about them, too," said Beau.

"I do, too, care about romance," Lionel objected. "If it makes a good song."

"There are at least a dozen lasses in Nottingham, and probably some lads as well, who would follow you into the forest for the sake of your blond curls and a song," teased Etty.

Lionel shrugged. "They can do as they please."

"At least have pity on our poor lovelorn Rook," Etty chided him. "Can't you think of a kind word to say to him, when he's feeling so downhearted?"

"I'm fine," objected Rook. "Tod just doesn't like me."

"That's silly," said Lionel. "Why would you think he doesn't like you? Who has he spent all his time with since he came here? If he likes men, why not join Robin Hood's band? There are a few there who wouldn't mind having a handsome young monk around."

"If he wanted the company of scholars, he could have gone to a city like Paris, and joined a monastery," Etty pointed out.

"And if he had a taste for pretty poets," Beau grinned, "he would have wooed our Lionel."

"Little good it would have done him." Lionel rolled his eyes.

"Or maybe he doesn't want anyone," said Rook.

"Maybe he thinks he does not," said Beau, "but Lionel is right. He has slept in your cave every night, these past weeks, and spent almost every day at your side. He sits near you when you take supper at the cottage, and he sighs and makes longing looks at you when he thinks no one is looking." Beau fluttered his eyelashes and put a hand to his forehead, feigning a swoon.

Rook scowled. "He doesn't do that."

"Well, perhaps not so dramatic," Beau allowed, "but he watches you, all the same, and he prefers your company to anyone else in the greenwood."

Rook had no answer for that, and fortunately he did not have to think of one. At that moment, Tykell bounded out of the trees, with Rowan following not far behind. The wolf-dog trotted up to Smudge, and began licking the toddler's face in greeting, as if he had not seen her in days. Smudge shrieked with delight, dropping her pebbles and burying her fingers in Tykell's thick fur.

Rowan caught sight of Rook, and smiled. Rook sat up straighter, trying not to hope or ask whether there was any word of Tod.

"I'm glad to see you here," said Rowan. "It's good to have another pair of hands to help around the place."

"Much help any of them are," grumbled Lionel. "All they do is _talk_."

Rowan ignored him. "If you've a mind to help, Rook, I would be glad if you would go down to the spring and fill our water bucket."

Rook looked sharply at Rowan. Tasks involving heavy lifting were usually given to Lionel, who was the strongest among them. Not that Rook could not manage a bucket of water; only that Lionel could carry twice as much without breaking a sweat.

A secretive smile curled the corner of Rowan's mouth, and heo inclined heore head in the direction of the spring, eyebrows raised. Rook's mouth went dry, and his heart began to beat faster. If Rowan was sending him, there could be only one reason. Without a word, Rook snatched up the bucket and hurried away down the path to the rowan hollow.


	8. Chapter 8

Tod was there. He sat on the grass beside the spring in the rowan hollow, the bundle of his belongings beside him, head bowed, rosary wrapped tightly around hands folded in prayer.

Rook sat down beside him. Tod did not look up, but he must have heard his footsteps.

"You found me," he said at last.

"I thought you'd gone," said Rook.

Tod stared at the string of wooden beads, folded over his hands. "I meant to."

"If you didn't want to be found, you wouldn't have come here," Rook pointed out.

The rowan hollow had been the little outlaw band's first home. They had lived there the first time Tod came to the forest. It was a sacred place, protected by Rowan's otherworldly kin, the _aelfe_.

"I'm sorry," said Rook.

"For what?"

"I thought you wanted -" Rook broke off, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter. I misunderstood ... something. I shouldn't have kissed you. Not without making sure it was what you wanted."

"You did nothing wrong, Rook," Tod said quietly. "You were honest about your feelings. I wasn't."

"I won't do it again," Rook promised. "You don't have to leave on my account. I know you've been happy here. The others want you to stay. And I - I'd rather have you here, just as my friend, than not have you here at all."

Tod looked up, his eyes full of misery. "I can't."

"Because of me?"

Tod nodded. "It's not your fault, but yes. Because of you."

Rook bit his lip, feeling helpless. "Rowan said you were afraid. Maybe of me."

Tod hung his head again. "Rowan is right. I'm a coward."

"You're not!" Rook objected. "You're the bravest person I know! Except for maybe Rowan."

Tod looked down at his hands, twisted together, and shook his head. "I thought I could do it. It was so simple, when I said my vows: poverty, chastity, obedience. A simple life of service. I thought my heart died with Zaahir, and I would never feel anything for anyone again."

"I'm not trying to take his place," said Rook. "I know I never could. That I'm nothing like him. I didn't mean to make you break your vows, or feel like you had betrayed him."

"That's not what I'm afraid of. I came back to Sherwood to find peace." Tod pressed his lips together, then continued slowly, "Since I've been here again, I've felt - like a garden, warmed by the sun, coming awake after a long winter. I felt my heart beating in my breast for the first time since -" He broke off, shaking his head, and looked up at Rook. "At first, I thought it was only the beauty and the peace of the greenwood, working its healing magic on me. But as the days passed, I began to realise it was you."

Rook stared at him. "Me?"

Tod nodded. "I tried to ignore it at first. To deny it. I thought that if I pretended it wasn't happening, perhaps I could will it away. But - the sweetness of my time with you, and the way you looked at me -" Tod sighed and looked down at his hands again. "And then you kissed me, and for a moment, I broke my vows and forgot about everything else, because I wanted it so much."

Rook's hands clenched into fists, to keep himself from reaching for Tod. "If you wanted it, then why did you say it was a mistake?"

"Because it was," said Tod regretfully. "It was unfair to you, to encourage your feelings. If I hadn't let it happen, we might have carried on as we were, and taken what joy we could in our friendship. But now it's too late to pretend there's nothing more between us. That's why I must go."

"But you _didn't_ go," objected Rook. "You're here. Anyway, having feelings for someone seems like a stupid reason to leave."

"I'm here because I felt I owed you an explanation, at least," said Tod. "I knew if you wanted one, you would find me. And if you didn't, I would leave tomorrow at first light."

"But _why_?" Rook demanded.

"Because you're an outlaw," said Tod quietly. "Because your life is dangerous. Because your death stalks this forest, wearing my father's face." He looked up again, eyes filled with sorrow. "Because I could lose you, like I lost Zaahir. I couldn't bear to live through that again."

"Yes," said Rook bitterly, "the life of an outlaw is dangerous. If you go, and I'm killed, do you think that will be better, only because you don't have to know about it, or care?"

Tod's eyes widened. "No! I only meant -"

"There are men of Robin Hood's band who have lived in the greenwood a score of years, or more," Rook cut him off. "I've known old men past sixty who've died peacefully in their sleep, surrounded by friends. It seems to me that the more people I have watching my back and caring for me, the longer I'm likely to live."

Tod hung his head, looking miserable. "I told you I was a coward."

Rook relented. Reaching out, he laid a hand on Tod's arm. "No. You're not a coward. You're just afraid. There's nothing wrong with being afraid, unless it stops you from living your life and being happy."

When Tod said nothing, Rook asked, "Where will you go? Will you keep moving from place to place, starting over again somewhere new, every time you have warm feelings for someone?"

"I don't know," admitted Tod.

"Would he have wanted that for you? Your Zaahir?" Rook pressed. "I didn't know him, but I don't think he would have wanted you to be alone."

Tod closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. He looked as if he might cry. Rook was quiet for a moment, watching his face.

"I know I'm not him," he said. "I don't come from a wealthy family. I can't write you a poem, or kiss you at the top of a - what was it called?"

"A minaret," said Tod.

"A minaret," Rook repeated. "I'm just Rook the outlaw, the son of Jack Pigkeep. But I would try to make you happy, even so."

Tod clutched his beads tighter. He did not look up.

"It doesn't have to be now," Rook said softly. "I can wait, if you need time to heal, and to decide if I'm - if this life is worth it. In the meantime, I'd be glad of a friend."

Tod's head jerked up. He stared at Rook in disbelief. "If you're worth it? Of course you're worth it, Rook!"

"Am I?" said Rook flatly. "A moment ago, you didn't seem to think so."

Tod shook his head. "I'm sorry, Rook. I've been so wrapped up in my own sorrows. I never meant to make you feel unworthy, only because I'm afraid. You have a great heart, and you deserve to be loved well."

"Then stay," urged Rook. "I promise I'll be careful, and I won't let your father get me. He hasn't managed it in the last five years. Imagine how much better off I'll be, with another friend to watch my back."

Tod gave a rueful chuckle. "You make it very hard to argue with your logic."

Rook smiled hesitantly. "So don't. Stay, and make Sherwood your home."

"I would be a great fool not to accept the blessings God has given me," said Tod, a soft look in his brown eyes. "If He has chosen to send me a good man who wants to kiss me and make me happy, how can I refuse?"

"I would hope," said Rook, heart beating faster, "that if I kissed you, you'd be glad of it, not because you think it's what God wants, but because it's what _you_ want."

"I do," Tod confessed quietly. "I'm so afraid, Rook, but I do want you to kiss me, may God preserve us both."

"I'm not afraid," said Rook, but his hands trembled when he cupped Tod's face between them, and his heart pounded as their lips touched, light and hesitant, and so sweet that it took Rook's breath away.

He exhaled in a shaky sigh, his forehead resting against Tod's.

"Ah, Rook," Tod murmured. "My dear, sweet forest bird ..."

His arm circled Rook's waist, gathering him close in another much more fervent kiss. Rook flung his arms about Tod's neck, practically tumbling into him in his enthusiasm. This time, Rook kissed him as long and as thoroughly as he wanted to, holding nothing back. He rejoiced as he felt his own desires echoed by Tod's eager mouth, without anymore hesitation or doubt.

When they paused to catch their breath, Rook rested his chin on Tod's shoulder with a sigh of contentment.

He felt Tod's chuckle almost as much as he heard it. "What's funny?"

"I am," said Tod. "I was a failure at carpentry and shepherding and blacksmithing and soldiering, and now it seems I am a failure as a monk, too."

Rook grinned, feeling giddy. "You could try being an outlaw."

"It may be the only option I have left," Tod laughed. "Is there some test I must pass, to join your outlaw band?"

"You must swear an oath of fealty," said Rook half-seriously, lifting his head to look into Tod's eyes. "That you'll care for and protect each member of the band, as you do yourself."

"And if I should happen to care for one member of the band in particular, a little more than the others?" Tod asked, smiling tenderly.

Rook grinned, and kissed him again. "I won't tell anyone."


End file.
